Rebellion at Longbourn

She laughed, a musical sound. “You are quite in the mood to flatter tonight, Mr. Darcy. I am beginning to wonder if you have business in Hertfordshire at all. Perhaps you came all this way solely to shower compliments on my head.”

She was unaware how perilously close she came to the truth. “Not at all. I also arrived with the goal of gaining your consent for a dance.”

She laughed again. “I will admit to being a fair dancer, but I do not believe my skills are worthy of a journey of thirty miles.”

“I pray you, allow me to be t

he judge of that.” Even as he responded to her banter, Darcy marveled at himself. I am flirting! Darcy had never flirted before. He always believed he lacked the capacity for it, but perhaps he only needed to find the right woman.

“Ah, but if my dancing is not what you hope, will you return to London in despair?”

“I know you will not disappoint me.” These words did not emerge as flirtatious; rather, his seriousness of purpose leaked through.

Appearing a little nonplussed, Elizabeth averted her gaze. Damnation! The flirting had been going so well, but of course, he had to muck it up. Perhaps he had offended her. “If you would prefer not to dance—”

Her brows drew together in perplexity. “I am honored to stand up with you. It is scarcely a hardship. Indeed, sir, a dance is scarcely sufficient to demonstrate my gratitude for the gown. You should demand more.”

Now he was laughing. “You would have me demand your firstborn child?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Darcy realized they were far too provocative.

His face warmed again; was he destined to forever blush in her presence? She colored a little as well but managed a smile. “You cannot do so; your name is not Rumpelstiltskin.”

He chuckled in admiration of her quick salvation of an awkward situation.

The sounds of the orchestra striking up the next set saved him from the necessity of a reply. “Perhaps we should take our places for the next set?” He offered her his arm and led her to the dance floor. Many eyes followed them. Darcy was alternately irritated at the attention and hopeful that this sign of his approval would ease Elizabeth’s social stigma.

Elizabeth was an accomplished dancer, and it was a joy to stand up with her. She possessed a grace and lightness in her step that he found marvelous, and they were well matched, moving together in great harmony. Both were silent at first, but finally Elizabeth asked, “Do you remember our first dance at Netherfield?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I told you then that I had difficulty making out your character.”

“And how do you get on now?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said with a laugh as she completed a figure. “Two years ago, I believed I understood, but now I am discovering there is much I did not know. It is most disconcerting.”

Her tone was arch and teasing, but he discerned a bit of the truth in her words. His current behavior was indeed surprising to her. Was she simply astonished he had skirted propriety by sending her a dress, or had she expected him to cut her family as the rest of society had?

“I am pleased you are gaining in understanding.”

She laughed. “Actually, I believe I am merely more confused. You are a most vexing character, sir!”

“My apologies,” he said, trying to infuse his words with her teasing lightness. “Being an enigma is hardly my intention. I will endeavor to be less inscrutable in the future.”

“I appreciate the sacrifices you make on my behalf.”

“There is nothing I would not sacrifice for you.” The words flew from his mouth before he could censor them. Damnation! What will she think?

Her eyes widened for a moment, but the pert smile immediately returned. “You are fortunate that I am not inclined to test that assertion and ask you to sacrifice something very important—such as the eating of lemon biscuits!”

They both laughed and then spoke little for the remainder of the set.

***

When the set ended, Mr. Darcy helped Elizabeth navigate the throngs of attendees and quickly darted away to obtain her a glass of punch. He seemed to have no interest in finding another dance partner but was most solicitous of Elizabeth’s amusement. It was a heady sensation—the attention of an attractive, wealthy man at such a glamorous event. I must not allow myself to be overly excited, she chastised herself. He is simply extending every civility because he feels he owes my family a debt.

Elizabeth had not attended such a festive event for a long time. The experience was bittersweet. She reveled in the sensation of being Miss Bennet of Longbourn again. But she could not forget that tomorrow she would scoop up dead mice and empty dishwater out the back door of the kitchen. An event like this ball only emphasized how completely her life had altered after her father’s death. Before that melancholy event, she had taken for granted that she belonged to this world. Now she felt like an imposter at the ball—an actress playing the part of an elegant lady.

I am just feeling sorry for myself. That serves no good purpose. Tonight I will simply revel in the ball. She supposed she should leave herself available in case other men wanted to partner her, but she enjoyed Mr. Darcy’s company too much to surrender it. They had exchanged few words since leaving the dance floor, but even his silence was companionable.